American Snapshot: Traveling Circus
COLUMBUS, Wis., Oct. 11, 2009— -- The circus trucks rumble into town during the middle of the night and, by first light, the big top is rising over a grassy park. For 73 years, the Carson & Barnes Circus has wandered the country: It is among the last such traveling shows in America. As tiny children watch wide-eyed, elephants are put to work turning the hoists that raise the big top.
In a morning ritual, crew members whistle in harmony as they set the stage, but the work is hard, the hours, brutal, the pay, low.
"You have to love this job or you can't do it," circus co-owner Barbara Byrd said during a stop in Columbus, Wis.
Byrd's grandfather founded the circus and she travels with it nine months a year.
"It's definitely in my bones, my blood, and in my whole being," Byrd said. "I was born on the road and I'll probably die on the road."
Once traveling circuses thrived as staples of U.S. entertainment. They made the Ringling brothers spectacularly wealthy.
At their peak, in the early 20th century, as many as 200 circuses were active in the United States. Now, only a handful survive; a fading side-show in the nation's crowded show-biz marketplace.
Carson & Barnes is a throwback to the early days, a proudly traditional circus that sticks largely to the small towns and suburbs. It lacks the sexiness and edginess of a Cirque de Soleil, for instance, which seems just fine with the families who are its target audience.
Heather Alvarez of Columbus brought her two young children. "It's exciting to have something so big come to a small town like this," she said. "It's fun to get out and do something old. Something that's been around for a long time with a big tradition."
The entire crew -- about 100 strong -- is small enough that everyone works two or three jobs. The same circus worker may set up the tents, sell tickets and ride the elephants later in the show.
The elephant trainer, Chip Arthurs, represents a story as old as the circus itself: He literally ran away from home to join. "This is what I've been doing all my life so I really don't know anything else," he said.
For 38 weeks a year, Arthurs and other circus employees lead a nomad's life, sleeping in trailers and eating whatever the circus cook dishes up. For children, including young performers, classes are in a one-room schoolhouse on wheels.
